


This Dream Was Me and You

by phodyl



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, I also played with the dream connection a lot in this, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Trahearne says fuck, mature for language and discussion of sex, ngl there's some crack and some very self indulgent elements to this, sticks pretty close to canon where possible, the commander gets a hug, the commander has a lot of emotional baggage, this one will end right after the core story finishes, this will eventually be a trahearne lives au but it'll technically be another fic in the same series, trahearne kind of gets around actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phodyl/pseuds/phodyl
Summary: Dianach knows a silly crush on a Firstborn could never go anywhere for someone like him, but when Trahearne asks the young Valiant to locate a missing Warden, he finds himself captivated nonetheless. After returning from his mission, he can't help but feel the way the Firstborn talks to him as he aids in the Valiant's recovery is...unusual.Meanwhile, Trahearne has been waiting his entire life to find a particular sylvari who appeared in his dream. After meeting Dianach, he finally understands why he feels the strange incomplete feeling he's been running from for years, but will he ever be brave enough to actually do something about it?***Your standard garden-variety self-indulgent trammander fic, I guess
Relationships: Trahearne/Male Player Character (Guild Wars), Trahearne/Player Character (Guild Wars)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	1. Act with Wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my very first gw2 fic! I am very excited. 
> 
> This fic is honestly a lot of me fixing things I didn't like about how the devs treated the relationship between Trahearne and the Commander, and also just having Fun With Ships(tm). As such, it focuses almost entirely on their relationship. Main character is my (trans) male sylvari thief, Dianach (actually pronounced almost exactly like Riannoc but with a D instead of an R, if you're wondering) whom I love and I want to apologize to him in advance for hurting him like this. Like this fic breaks his heart into a million tiny little pieces and then eventually sticks them back together again. Eventually.
> 
> I also took a lot of liberties with various facets of sylvari biology and how the Dream works between individuals and in general. I just find sylvari really interesting. I try to keep canon-compliant to a decent extent, occasionally making small changes for flow or bigger changes to, yknow, have a plot.
> 
> Also, there's some smutty scenes within this, but I'm keeping them as separate fics linked to show where they fit into the story, so you can 100% easily bypass anything explicit if you're not into that. There's still some kinda frank discussion about sex though, because it just got tangled up in the plot and I didn't feel like untangling it.
> 
> Title is from "Barcelona" by Queen

“Valiant! Wonderful to finally meet you. Remind me of your name?” he said brightly.

 _Oh wow, he really is beautiful_ , Dianach thought. Of course, he’d heard others talk. Saplings love to gossip about the Firstborn, and Trahearne was the first of the Firstborn, which certainly had to count for something. But this was...different than he’d expected. His eyes were kind and glowing, his smile shy but warm, his demeanor awkward in the most endearing sort of way. Dianach had heard others say they were starstruck upon meeting him, but “starstruck” couldn’t begin to cover the fluttering feeling in his chest as the Firstborn looked at him intently.

“Hello? Are you with us?” Dianach heard as a pine green hand waved in front of his face.

“Oh, s-sorry, sir,” the Valiant scrambled. “My, um--my name is Dianach. It’s an honor to meet you. Sir.”

“Please, no need for such formalities. Just Trahearne is fine.”

“Oh, um--are you--are you sure, sir?” he asked, kicking himself for the last word.

“I insist. Now, we should discuss why I’ve had your mentor ask you here,” Trahearne said, his expression turning serious, but no less gentle. “I received a letter from a Warden named Tegwen in Annwen about an Orrian artifact that recently washed ashore. Now, this would be...troubling...on its own, but more troubling is that she didn’t respond to any of the letters I sent to follow up. I’d like you to go to Annwen and speak to Tegwen’s young protege, Carys, and with her help, find Tegwen and bring her home.”

“Of course, sir--um, Trahearne,” Dianach said. The Firstborn made a strange face he couldn’t quite place at that. “But, um, if I may ask a question?”

“Please, speak freely,” Trahearne replied, seeming slightly frustrated. _Clearly I need to get my awkwardness under control_ , the younger one thought.

“Why me?”

“Caithe told me about you, and how well you handled the situation with the Green Knight. You saved many saplings with your bravery, from what I hear.”

Dianach was sure his glow must’ve flashed a little at that.

“Oh, um, it was nothing,” he said demurely, trying to avoid looking him in the eye. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“Clearly not,” Trahearne said, firm but kind, “seeing as you were the one to put a stop to him even after so many had challenged him, and how many lost their lives in the process. What you did was remarkable, truly, though I do respect your humility.

“Additionally, as a thief, your skill with stealth and deception makes you a good fit for this particular task. The Head Warden of Annwen is missing, and we want to avoid causing unnecessary alarm among the residents. I trust your discretion will allow you to find Tegwen, while keeping the situation under the radar.”

“Under the--radar?” the Valiant asked.

“Ah, yes, I forget you’re still so new to this world,” Trahearne said, smiling as if having the opportunity to teach was the best thing that had happened to him all day. _What a guy_. “A radar is an asuran device which allows for the tracking of objects in the air. The phrase itself means to treat a situation with discretion, so as to avoid its detection.”

“Oh, I see,” Dianach said, unable to keep himself from smiling back. Trahearne’s eyes just invited it, the kindness in them. “Yes, you can count on me to keep it, uh, under the radar.” 

“Excellent,” he said with what Dianach could’ve sworn was a wink. “Do you have any more questions for me before you depart?”

 _Dozens_ , he thought. _Hundreds, even_. Dianach wanted to know everything Trahearne knew, everything about him. But this wasn’t the time for such things. There probably wouldn’t ever be a time for such things, certainly not with a Firstborn.

“Yes,” the young Valiant answered, after just a bit too much time had passed to be comfortable. “This protege, Carys. What is she like? I’d like to know what to expect.”

“An excellent question, but unfortunately one for which I’m not sure I have an accurate answer; I’ve yet to meet her. I have heard that she has a big heart, but can be a bit…”

“A bit...?”

“I wouldn’t want to be rude but--well, I’m told she can be a bit scatterbrained. I think I may have heard one of the other Wardens call her an--an airhead? Let us say cleverness is not her gift and leave it at that.”

“Good to know. Thanks for the information,” Dianach said. “And um--thank you. For trusting me to do this, I mean.”

“Every person deserves a chance to prove themselves, and you’re well on your way,” he said. “We’re counting on you, Valiant. _I’m_ counting on you. Bring Tegwen home.”

“Yes, sir,” the Valiant said, and then after receiving a glare that could scare a skritt away from a shiny, “Yes, _Trahearne_. I won’t let you down.”

***

“Sir! Or, um, Trahearne!”

“Ah, Valiant!” he called as Dianach approached from the elevator pod with Carys behind him. She looked a little dejected at the lack of acknowledgement.. “So glad to see you again. I gather from your letter that we have a situation with this artifact.”

“Yeah. You see, Tegwen, she found this on the beach. It’s the artifact she wrote to you about,” the young Valiant began, gesturing to the mirror, “but a storm hit before she could retrieve it. It took some doing to get both it and her back. We had to deal with some krait, and then--you know what? Not important. Anyway, once we had it, Tegwen was looking at it, and then suddenly the mirror...shifted, and it swallowed her. Before she was pulled through, she said it looked like Orr, but that--is that even possible?”

“It is, certainly,” Trahearne said. “I’ve seen artifacts like this before.”

“I know its magic,” said the Mother Tree. “I believe I can hold the portal open, with Trahearne’s assistance.”

“And then the Valiant and I can go get Tegwen!” Carys said excitedly. “We can bring her back, and then she’ll be safe and we can go back to Annwen!”

“Wait, wait,” Dianach said. “Can we be sure she’s still alive?”

“Tegwen is clever,” the Mother said. “She can protect herself, and I can sense her light. But we must be quick. Even the strongest of Tyria cannot last long alone in Orr.”

“Alright, we had better get going then,” Dianach said, trying to sound brave. “We’ll bring her home.”

In mere moments, the portal had been opened. The Valiant took a deep breath, preparing to step through. Just before he could, though, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned to see yellow eyes looking at him with--well, concern seemed a little too light a word.

“Valiant,” Trahearne said quietly. “Be safe. Your goal is to bring back Tegwen, but if it is too much, if it isn’t safe...come back.”

“We can’t just leave her in Orr, Trahearne. You heard Mother, she won’t last,” he said, nearly a whisper, as Carys stood looking at the portal.

“I am telling you this precisely because of how dangerous Orr can be. Keep yourself safe first. And Carys, of course. We can find another way to bring Tegwen home if need be.”

“I don’t--I can’t--why are you--”

“Come _on_ ,” Carys said, tugging the Valiant’s arm and interrupting his babbling. “We have to go.”

The last thing he saw before stepping into the portal were those eyes, and suddenly he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing them again.


	2. The Strangest Sort of Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dianach successfully makes it back through the portal, but not without some fairly serious wounds. Mortifyingly, Trahearne insists on seeing to the Valiant himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure crack and I am not ashamed

“I see them!” Dianach heard Trahearne say, his tone somewhere between excitement, worry, and relief. “The Valiant, and--is that--yes, Carys and Tegwen as well!”

He followed the voice, wading through wave upon wave of spiders. No, not spiders. _Risen_ spiders. An important clarification, he was learning.

When the portal was finally in sight, they ran. The young Valiant didn’t think of stamina, or how tired he felt, or the draining effect Orr seemed to have. At least, not until he was through the portal.

For a while, everything was dark. Dianach could feel warmth, could sense the light from behind his eyelids, could hear a soft voice speaking to him, though he couldn’t make out words. Slowly, he regained awareness.

“Valiant,” he heard a voice say just above him. He still couldn’t see, nor could he tell who was speaking.

“Valiant--Dianach, please. You will be alright. Just focus on my voice.” 

Was that--was that Trahearne? 

“Focus, that’s it. Come back to us. Come back. Everything is fine, everyone is safe. We’re in the Grove with Mother, we’re safe now. Come back to me, that’s it.”

That softness, that warmth, that concern, it hit him like a wave. Suddenly it was like he couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

Dianach’s eyes darted open as he coughed and gasped, struggling for air against...against nothing. He _was_ safe. The voice was right.

A moment passed before the Valiant could breathe again, and then he looked around frantically. Tegwen, Carys--he did it. He brought them back. And there was Mother’s avatar. But where was _he_?

“Dianach, are you alright?” Trahearne said. The voice was--above him? 

The Valiant looked up to find Trahearne’s face hovering about a foot over his own. It felt like the Firstborn’s eyes were pouring every ounce of warmth they had into him. There was a hand on Dianach’s shoulder, strong and steady. Trahearne was--he was holding the Valiant. He had his head in his lap, his arm curled around him, his neck bent over his form. It felt surreal. It felt like a dream. 

He looked so afraid, so concerned, but Dianach couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but _something_ was wrong.

“Please. Please answer me. Please be alright.”

“Trahearne, I’m sure the Valiant will be fine. He may just need some time to recover,” Tegwen said. “He’s strong, he’ll be okay. But I could tell being there took a lot out of him, and everything he did to get us out...it was a lot.”

“If he doesn’t--if something is wrong, I could never forgive myself,” Trahearne said. He sounded...deflated, almost. Like the hope had run out of him. “I sent him there. I know what Orr is, I never should’ve sent in someone so young.”

 _This was--this was my fault. I made him afraid_ , Dianach thought. He had to do something; move, speak, _anything_. 

The Valiant coughed, fought to force the words out.

“Trahearne,” he tried. It was barely a whisper. 

“Dianach?” Trahearne whispered back.

“Trahearne, I’m--I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

“I should never have sent you there. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dianach rasped. “Really.”

“What can I do? What do you need?” Trahearne asked desperately.

“I need--rest. Just--I want to go home. Please.”

“Can you walk?” 

“I--I think so. I might need help.”

“Please, allow me. I’ll ensure you arrive home safely,” he said, before gently helping the other man to sit.

After a moment, the Firstborn helped Dianach to his feet, and the Valiant tried to quiet the disbelieving voice at the back of his mind that kept saying _this can’t be happening_. Carefully, Trahearne helped him toward the elevator, his movements more hops than actual steps.

“Valiant, please forgive me if I’m being overbearing,” the scholar said as they rode down to the bottom floor of the city. “It’s only that I cannot bear to imagine someone being hurt because of a decision I made, especially…”

“Especially…?”

“Especially, um--especially someone so--so young,” Trahearne clarified, stumbling over every word, and then coughed. 

The rest of the elevator ride passed in slightly uncomfortable silence, until the two of them reached the bottom and continued their awkward shuffle to Dianach’s home. 

“Hey, um,” the Valiant started, voice still rough, “I know you must be incredibly busy, between being a Firstborn and your Wyld Hunt and all, but I was wondering if there was any way I could speak to you about what I saw. It was…disturbing, to say the least, and no one knows Orr better than you, so um, if you’d be willing, I’d really appreciate having someone to--to process it all with.”

A few moments passed before he answered. Dianach started to worry that he had overstepped, but the Firstborn finally said, “Yes, I--I think that’s a good idea. It was difficult for me to recover from my first journey. In fact, my reaction was not entirely dissimilar to yours. I was able to make it back home to the Grove, but it took over a week for my strength to return. Speaking to the Mother Tree about my experience was a great help. I would be happy to pass along the favor.”

“That’s very--ugh, sorry, just really hurts,” Dianach attempted to answer, cut off by a sharp, freezing pain that reverberated through his entire body as the adrenaline wore off. “That’s very--ngk--very kind of you.”

“As Firstborn, we’ve always felt it our duty to help newly emerging sylvari. We--myself especially--had very little guidance coming into this world. We hoped that sharing what we’ve learned in our time here would help those who come after us.”

“I think it’s working pretty well,” the Valiant said with a chuckle, which sent another jolt of pain through his body, this time so bad that he nearly collapsed. 

“As much as I enjoy your company and conversation,” Trahearne said, his face softening into that gentle, warm, concerned smile as he struggled to keep Dianach on his feet, “we really must get you resting, Valiant.”

“How much further?” he asked, his voice growing more and more strained.

“Not much. You’re doing very well. We’ll be there shortly.”

“It’s--agh--it’s getting--harder--to walk.”

Finally, they made it to the door, with Trahearne more carrying the Valiant than helping him walk the last few steps.

“Thank you--mgh--for your help, Firstborn,” Dianach said, beginning the arduous process of detaching himself from the other’s side.

“Oh, please, let me help you to bed,” he said, keeping his hold on the Valiant despite his stubborn attempts to leave the Firstborn’s grasp.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to--”

“I insist,” said Trahearne, and then softer, “You’re in pain. Let me help.” And then, barely audible, “Please.”

“Mgh--fine. I don’t have the--ngh--energy to argue,” Dianach said, attempting to smirk.

“If it’s alright,” Trahearne said as they approached the bed, “I’d like to look you over before I leave. Make sure you’re not injured. The pain you’re in is concerning.”

“Are you going to--mgh--insist again if I try to--agh--say no?”

“Oh, most definitely,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Then I suppose it’s alright.”

“Good.”

Dianach made a frankly embarrassing sound as Trahearne lowered him into a sitting position on the bed, which the Firstborn was kind enough to ignore. 

“Now, do you need help removing your armor?” he asked. As if that was a totally normal question to ask someone.

Of course, it was a totally normal question to ask in this situation. It only felt abnormal because of how desperately Dianach wanted it to mean something else.

“I think that--ngh--that’s probably a good--ugh--idea,” he said, wincing at every movement as he leaned back on his palms for the other man to unbutton his jacket and shirt.

 _Don’t make it weird_ , Dianach told himself. _You just met him, **and** he’s a Firstborn. He’s not in love with you, and you’re not in love with him. This is just a crush, like you’ve heard the saplings chitter about. Calm down._

“Sorry, so sorry,” Trahearne said when the Valiant winced as he helped him out of his jacket and then his shirt.

_Holy shit, I’m half naked in front of Firstborn-fucking-Trahearne. Is this what it’s like being a Valiant?_

“I’ll get your boots now,” the Firstborn said. “Are you able to unlace your pants on your own? I can help with those too, if need be, but I would never want to--overstep.”

“Oh, can I--can I not leave those on?” Dianach asked, and then chided himself for making it weirder.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but the Risen can leave some terrible wounds, and if you have one that goes without treatment, it could fester.”

“Yeah, um--agh--that makes sense. I think I can--handle it.”

Dianach never thought something as simple as unlacing his own pants could hurt so much. He managed the first set of loops before very nearly fainting from the pain.

“Please, let me,” Trahearne said, his hands flying to the young Valiant’s shoulders to keep him upright.

“No, I ca’--I ca’ do it,” Dianach said, speech slurring slightly. He was beginning to realize that pain can make you delirious, which was not a good thing for him to be at this particular moment.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dianach. I can see how much pain you’re in.” 

_Wait till I tell the other saplings I got undressed by a Firstborn._

Dianach tried feebly to deter his efforts, but it didn’t do much. He was too faint to resist as Trahearne moved him so that he was laying down (which hurt) and removed his shoes and pants as gently as possible (which hurt even more, to the point that he had to bite back a scream).

“I am so sorry,” the Firstborn said. “I’m being as gentle as I can. I know this hurts.”

Dianach watched, strangely captivated, as the scholar quickly glanced over his body, checking for anything obvious, before more thoroughly examining him.

“Has anyone ev’r tol’ you you’re, li’, r’ly bea’iful?” Dianach mumbled, his thoughts working their way into the open as the pain overwhelmed his consciousness.

Trahearne blushed a glowing violet and smiled, a sweet, awkward smile that touched his eyes and clearly revealed that he wasn’t used to being complimented.

“Not in some time, no,” the Firstborn confessed before returning to his work.

“Well i’s true,” he insisted, barely lifting his head, then groaning as the pain of the action hit him.

“You flatter me, Valiant,” Trahearne replied, then ran a gentle hand along his calf. “Ah, yes, here,” he declared, his delicate fingertips a searing brand against the other’s skin. “It would appear you’ve been bitten by an Orrian spider. I can treat it, of course. I just need to remove its pestilence.”

“An’ wha’ exac’ly does tha’ mean?” Dianach slurred tiredly.

“It means, dearheart,” he answered, and something in the Valiant’s stomach fluttered just a little despite everything, “I’ll need to make a small cut near the wound, and then use magic to pull the poison from you.”

“Tha’ soun’s pai’ful.”

“In all honesty, it will be excruciating,” Trahearne said, his face tender. “But if I don’t do this, the poison will almost certainly kill you.”

“Yeah, pai’ soun’s be’r.”

“Good. Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Sorry,” he said, and then everything went white as his dagger pierced the Valiant’s skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was totally imagining Dianach's pain delirium sounding like a softer, less hostile version of the dialogue at the end of the level 30 story mission "Trouble at the Roots" ("But the OoOOoozzzzes!"). If you've never played through that particular mission on a male sylvari, [please allow me to bless you](https://youtu.be/Da2vcS-8GBM?t=466) with this wonderful drunken voice acting.


	3. High Hopes and Broken Hearts

When Dianach came to, it was Tegwen who was sitting at his bedside, and she noticed the sounds of his stirring almost immediately. A sign of a good Warden, he thought.

“Ah, Valiant, you’re awake!” she said, her voice colored with relief. “We were all so worried.”

“Ho--how long have I been asleep?” Dianach asked. 

“Three days,” said the Warden. Her face was blurry as she leaned over him.

“Am I--am I okay?”

“Yes, thank the Tree. Or at least you will be. I’ve been keeping an eye on your wounds and they’re healing nicely. Trahearne was able to pull the spider’s poison from you, as well as some of the corruption that was causing you so much pain, which should speed your recovery time.”

“Thank you,” he said, his throat scratchy, “for taking care of me.”

“Oh, I haven’t been here very long, if I’m honest. Trahearne stayed until yesterday afternoon, when Caithe finally talked him into getting some rest of his own. Pulling the corruption from you required him to take some of it on himself, so he was quite run down by the time she forced him to go home.”

“Wow, that’s um--”

“Unusual, yes. Typically, you’d be placed under the care of a mender, but he insisted on seeing to you himself, and refused to leave unless I or Caithe stayed with you, so we’ve been staying here and taking turns checking on you. She went to get some food for us just a bit ago, actually.”

“Oh.”

“You know what? I’m going to go find her and have her bring you something as well,” Tegwen said, standing from her seat near the bed, “and then I’m going to go tell Trahearne you’re awake! He’ll be so pleased.”

Soon, Caithe had taken her place and was trying to convince the Valiant to eat. The two sat in silence for a while as he sipped from a bowl of soup and she drank warm tea, the steam dancing in front of her, scattering with her breath.

“I feel I should tell you, Valiant,” she said after a few minutes, “I’ve never seen Trahearne act like that with anyone before.”

“Like what?” 

“So--so concerned. Well, that’s not exactly right. It’s quite like him to be concerned.”

“I sense a ‘but.’”

“ _But_ it’s not like him to take someone’s care upon himself like that. He’s a scholar, not a healer. That’s not to say he’s not capable of healing; it’s obvious that he is, given that you’re alive. It’s not surprising that he would ensure you were seen to. What’s surprising is that he insisted so stubbornly upon doing it all himself.”

“Tegwen said you had to talk him into leaving,” Dianach said, feeling warmth in his cheeks at the thought.

“Oh, I practically had to drag him away,” Caithe said with a smile. “He wouldn’t leave you until I promised him that Tegwen and I would see to you ourselves and update him the moment you woke, or if you took a turn for the worse.”

“So what does that mean?” 

“I couldn’t say,” she answered with a shrug. “He must see something in you, but it’s up to him to tell you what that something is. I’m sure he’ll want to come visit you; you can ask him yourself.”

“You know, he--he called me something. A pet name. ‘Dearheart,’ I think,” Dianach said. “Do you think that means anything?”

Caithe’s eyebrows raised impossibly high as she considered this. 

“I think,” she finally answered a moment later, “it means you’ll have a lot to talk about.”

***

It took another eleven days for Dianach to fully recover. He was sure Trahearne would come. He would dote on the Valiant with that kind, warm look in his eyes, insist he eat and drink, help him around the room as he slowly regained the ability to walk.

None of that happened. He didn’t come.

***

“You broke that poor boy’s heart, you know,” Caithe said as she sharpened her dagger.

“Yes, I was afraid of that,” Trahearne sighed. “I should never have let myself get so attached.”

“Why not? It would be good for you to have something besides your Hunt to focus on for a while,” said Melomedies.

“Seconded,” Caithe commented without looking up from her whetstone.

“Just what I need, my brother and sister ganging up on me,” said Trahearne, rolling his eyes and smiling.

“What are siblings for if not to gang up on you for your own good?” Caithe teased, this time pausing her movements to look at him. “But honestly, clearly you have _some_ sort of feelings for him, and you saw the way he looked at you.”

“Oh, please,” Trahearne said with a wave of his hand. “Dianach is but a sapling. He’s just excited about meeting a Firstborn, like all the others.”

“Hmm, but there’s a flaw in your logic, Trahearne,” said Malomedies.

“And what is that, exactly?”

“He met both Caithe and I before you. Caithe was even with him in the dream, as a matter of fact. Yet he never responded to us the way he did to you.”

Trahearne blinked, processing the statement.

“Look at his face!” Caithe said with a teasing laugh. “You got him.”

“Oh, now,” Trahearne said, exasperated. “If we pursued every starstruck sapling, we could never get anything done. We’d all be living in--oh, what do humans call them again?”

“Families?” Caithe suggested.

“Harems?” said Malomedies.

“Yes! Harems, that’s the word.” Trahearne pinched the bridge of his nose, his tone shifting. “Regardless, I cannot just go chasing after a sapling. It’s not fair. It’s not _right_.”

“You can hardly call him a sapling anymore, brother,” Malomedies pointed out. 

“He’s right,” Caithe agreed. “He’s been to Orr now. That’s a lot more than most of _us_ have accomplished, and certainly more than most Valiants. He’s young, sure, but you can’t honestly call a sylvari with nearly a year and a trip to Orr under his belt a sapling.”

“Caithe, we’re 23,” Trahearne said. “Think about what those of other races would say.”

“But we aren’t of another race,” Caithe said resolutely. “Age doesn’t mean to us what it does to them; you know that. We emerge fully grown, far more psychologically developed than others, and Valiants even more so. You even said yourself that he's done more at this age than most sylvari have done since our creation.”

“Did I--did I say that?” Trahearne asked, looking at the floor and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

“You did. I was there,” said Malomedies. 

“Dianach has been awake for nine days, Trahearne. I sat with him for seven of them, and for the first four, all he did was ask if you were planning to visit,” Caithe said, her voice solemn and her eyes sad. “He thought you felt something for him, and now he’s learning what a broken heart feels like because you’re too afraid to be honest with yourself. The least you could’ve done was let him down easily.”

“I’m not afraid, Caithe,” Trahearne said. “Not like that, at least. I do feel something for him, yes. I’m sure given the opportunity I could grow to love him, even. But if I let this continue, what happens when one of us is hurt? What happens if our Hunts take us in opposite directions? I have no wish to let myself love just to lose that love later on, and I certainly would never want to hurt him.”

“But that’s just it, Trahearne,” Malomedies said. “You already have.”

***

“I don’t understand it, Morgan. Caithe and Tegwen were so sure he’d visit,” Dianach said, curling further into the space offered by his friend beneath her shoulder. “Caithe even said she’d never seen him act like that with someone before. I don’t get it.”

“I know, darling,” Morgan soothed, her hands running gently through the curls of his foliage. “It’s not fair. I can’t believe he would do this to you.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. Letting myself think a Firstborn, the Firstborn, could ever want someone like me.”

“Someone like...what, exactly?” Morgan said. “Smart? Kind? Handsome? Supportive? Brave? Shit, if you were into me, I’d take you in a heartbeat.”

“You’re too kind,” Dianach said, smiling and blushing bright white despite himself.

“Hey, I’m only tell the truth.” She placed a quick kiss on his forehead. “But really, Dianach,” she said, her tone turning serious, “I can feel how much he hurt you. It was wrong for him to treat you like that, _especially_ as a Firstborn. He was supposed to be looking out for you, whether he had feelings for you or not. You have every right to be upset.”

“You know, I’m really glad we’re friends, Morgan. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Aw, sweetheart. I’m glad too. I don’t know what I’d do all day if I wasn’t so busy worrying you’ll get yourself killed Valiant-ing,” she teased.

“Probably hole yourself up in that library of yours and die of dehydration because you got too absorbed in your research, Dusk bloom,” he shot back, looking up at her. 

“Oh, shush, you. My research may well save your life one day.”

“Be careful,” Dianach warned jokingly, “or I may end up holding you to that.”


	4. On Claw Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly a season after Trahearne healed his wounds and then disappeared from his life, Dianach runs into the Firstborn again just before a battle that will forever change the course of their collective future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I know Trahearne is supposed to be in the level 30 personal storyline but for the purposes of this fic we're gonna pretend he wasn't for ~the drama~

The next time Trahearne sees the Valiant, a season later, he’s been named a Lightbringer. He feels a rush of pride at how quickly Dianach has progressed, but pushes it down. He came here for a reason, and if he didn’t act on that reason, thousands would die.

“Please, Commander Talon, you have to listen to me,” Trahearne pleaded. “I’ve researched the situation extensively. The Orrians will strike here, on Claw Island.”

“And why should I listen to you? You may be an expert on Orr, but what do you know about battle?” Talon asked. “Claw Island has never fallen, even with all these Risen attacks lately.”

“Because he’s right!” a frantic but familiar voice said, quickly approaching. “You have to listen to him.”

“And who are you, exactly?” Talon said, the same condescension in his voice.

“My name is Dianach, I’m a Valiant of the Wyld Hunt and a Lightbringer of the Order of Whispers. My partner Tybalt and I recently encountered a Risen creature here in Lion’s arch, and we believe it was here scouting for an attack by Zhaitan and its minions.”

“We’ve seen no signs of an impending attack,” Talon said, though he sounded less sure now.

“Wait, Tybalt Leftpaw?” Trahearne said with excitement. “It is you! It’s been too long, my friend.”

“Trahearne!” Tybalt exclaimed. “It’s a good thing you’re here. Lightbringer, this is Trahearne. He’s Tyria’s foremost scholar on Zhaitan and Orr, and a friend to the Order.”

“Yes, we...know each other,” Dianach said, looking at the ground. 

“Oh,” Tybalt replied, “I didn’t realize. Sorry. Anyway, we really should be focusing on the problem at hand here. Commander Talon, please, you really do have to listen to us.”

“It’s true,” Trahearne said. “I can confirm their information. A fleet of undead ships has launched from the Straits of Devastation. I saw it myself.”

“Claw Island has never fallen, and it definitely won’t today,” Talon insisted. “Go talk to my commanders, Brakk and Mira. Once you see our defenses, you’ll know we can hold it.”

“Dianach, it’s good to see you again,” Trahearne said as the three of them made their way toward Brakk’s post.

“Wish I could say the same, Firstborn,” Dianach said. “And call me Lightbringer. You don’t get to act like we’re friends.”

“Dia--Lightbringer, for what it’s worth, I am truly sorry that I hurt you.”

“It’s worth nothing. Let’s just get this over with,” the Lightbringer replied, voice icy, as they approached Deputy Brakk.

“Deputy Brakk,” Trahearne said, “I come with a warning. The Risen are mounting a massive attack on Claw Island.” 

“Tell Watch Commander Talon the gunnery encampments are ready,” said Brakk. “This fortress has plenty of artillery. When the Orrians come, we’ll be ready. You should check on Mira, though. She’s in charge of beach patrol.”

They began the walk across the fortress in search of Mira. 

“The Lionguard don’t understand,” Trahearne remarked with distress. “This won’t be a sortie, it’ll be a massacre.”

“We’ll have to find a way to make them understand, then,” Dianach replied in the same chilly tone, without looking at the Firstborn.

“Deputy Mira?” Dianach called as they approached the woman.

She turned toward them. “In the flesh. Nice to see you again, Trahearne.” Dianach could’ve sworn he saw her look the scholar up and down and back up again, as if drinking him in. “Welcome to beach patrol, the most dangerous duty on Claw Island.”

“Deputy, the Risen are mounting a massive attack,” Trahearne said. If he'd noticed Mira's assessment, he certainly didn't mention it. “You must prepare your troops.”

“If we fall, our last order is to light those signal towers,” Mira said. “In 100 years, they’ve never once been lit. We’re very proud of that, and we won’t be letting it change any time soon.”

“Deputy Mira!” called a frantic voice from the beach. “Sound the alarm! We have Risen incoming!”

Trahearne, Dianach, and Tybalt followed the wave of Lionguard to the beach, drawing weapons as they went, when Trahearne suddenly grabbed the Valiant by the arm.

“What do you want?” Dianach asked, the venom in his voice hiding something else, something pained. His voice cracked slightly on the last syllable.

“Nothing at this moment,” Trahearne said gently. “Something for the future. I want to ask you to promise me something.”

“I don’t think I owe you any promises, _sir_.”

“Please, don’t call me--” Trahearne sighed. “I understand why you’re upset. You have every right to be. All I want is one simple thing.”

“What?” Dianach spat, fighting tears.

“Promise me that if we survive this, you’ll let me explain myself to you.”

“ _Fine._ ”

***

“So we survived,” Trahearne said as they sat on the dock in Lion’s Arch.

“Tybalt didn’t,” Dianach replied.

“That’s...yes. Tybalt didn’t.” Trahearne stared at his feet, afraid to meet Dianach’s eyes.

“So what was it you wanted to say, exactly?” the Lightbringer asked. “Somehow I have a feeling we’re going to be stuck together for a while, so if you have something that’ll make this--that’ll make me forgive you, my life would be a lot easier.”

“I can’t _make_ you forgive me, Dianach,” Trahearne said. “Whether you give me your forgiveness, that is your decision alone. As I said, you have every right to be angry. I was...stupid, and selfish.”

“Well, I agree with you so far.”

“In my time in this world, I’ve seen love often,” the Firstborn began. “I’ve seen love that’s beautiful. You could call it poetic, I suppose. Many have. But I’ve also seen love end in tragedy. I’m not sure how much you know about Faolain?”

“I know enough,” Dianach answered.

“So you know how much love can hurt. How much people who love can hurt each other.”

“Is there an apology in here somewhere, or…?”

“Dianach, please,” he said, eyes begging for mercy as tears threatened to escape. “Leaving you with Caithe, not coming back to see you--that was the worst mistake I’ve ever made, and I have regretted it every day since.”

“Then why not--why not say so? Why not find me? Or even--even just send a fucking letter?”

“Would that have made it any better? Honestly?”

“Well, if you’d sent a letter, I’d’ve been pissed,” the Lightbringer said with a sad sort of laugh. “But it would’ve hurt less than this. It would’ve hurt less than nothing. I mean, you gave me _nothing._ Just sucked the poison out of me and called me ‘dearheart’ and then pretended I never existed.”

The Firstborn sighed, the kind of sigh that could only signal preparation for something, though Dianach had no idea what. 

“I’m going to be honest with you now, in a way I’ve never been honest, though I know now that I should have told you long ago. I have never told anyone else this before,” Trahearne said.

“Alright, lay it on me, I guess.”

“I heard your name before it was your name. Before I awoke, in the Dream of Dreams, I heard your name, heard your voice calling to me. In fact, yours was the first voice to ever call _me_ by _my_ name,” Trahearne said, looking at the Lightbringer with pleading eyes. 

Dianach continued to look away.

“I didn’t know that until I met you, of course, but when I did, it immediately fell into place. Like those human puzzles--have you ever seen those?”

“Jigsaws,” Dianach said with a scoff.

“Yes. Yes, jigsaws.” Trahearne smiled, took a deep breath before continuing, “You see, I knew my destiny was intertwined with yours the moment Caithe told me about you. The feeling I had when I first heard your name in my waking days was...exhilarating, and terrifying, and gut-wrenching. In some complicated way that I do not think I could ever fully understand, a part of me has been in love with you since long before you or I existed at all.”

“So why run away?” Dianach asked, voice strained with the effort of holding back tears. “Why not run with it? With _me_?”

“Because I was afraid,” Trahearne stated simply. “I had never felt the way I felt the first time I saw you. It was like a part of me had been asleep since I emerged from the Mother Tree, and that part was finally awoken. I thought that--that I could somehow protect us both if I walked away before it became anything more, became what it was meant to be, but I see now that I was wrong. Because there I was, on Claw Island, where I was meant to be, and then there you were, on Claw Island, where _you_ were meant to be, and _we_ were meant to be there, _together._ ”

Dianach blinked against the tears that now flowed freely down his face, leaving dark, wet lines against the bark.

“So you’re saying you did feel that way? That you’ve always felt that way?”

“Yes, dearheart. Always. Longer than always, even,” Trahearne answered.

“Don’t call me that!” Dianach shouted toward the sky, loud enough that a few passersby turned to look at the pair. “Do you think that because you loved me that somehow makes it better? If anything, it makes it worse! You loved me, and yet you hurt me that much, without a second thought.”

“Believe me, there were second thoughts,” Trahearne said, his own tears streaming across his face. He wiped his eyes with the back of a hand. “Every day I awoke and had to talk myself out of finding you. Every day I missed you and wondered if I made the wrong choice. I knew, deep down, that I had. I knew that all along. But I couldn’t admit to myself that I want you. I couldn’t admit to myself that _I_ might be worthy of _being_ wanted. And I am so, so sorry for how much that hurt you, more than words could ever convey, and if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day showing you how sorry I am.”

Some time passed. It may have been seconds, minutes, hours. Neither of them knew. But finally Dianach spoke.

“I don’t want that,” he said.

“Oh,” said Trahearne, moving to stand.

“Wait,” the Lightbringer ordered, grasping Trahearne’s arm before he could get off his knees and finally looking him in the eye. “I didn’t say I didn’t want you.”

“I...what?”

“By the Tree, Trahearne, for how smart you are, you’re an idiot sometimes. I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you. This, hearing you say this, it’s all I’ve _ever_ wanted.”

“So--so what does that mean then? For us?” Trahearne asked.

“Honestly? I’m not sure,” Dianach replied. “It’s going to take me some time to really, properly forgive you. I walked around with that hurt for a significant proportion of the time I’ve been alive; no apology makes that go away overnight. I probably shouldn’t even be letting it go this easily. I probably should walk away from this dock and let you feel the way I’ve felt for the last...however long. But I know, I _know_ you’re supposed to be mine, and I don’t want to make myself wait any longer than I’ve already had to. I don’t want you to spend our lives showing me how sorry you are. I want you to spend our lives making it up to me.”

“I can do that,” Trahearne agreed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Dianach said.

“Where can I start? What would you like from me right now, even if it’s just to leave you be?” the Firstborn asked.

“Right now,” Dianach said, “I don’t want to think about how mad I was. I want to forget that hurt. And shit, I want to feel the rush I _should_ be feeling knowing we survived all of that, even if not everyone did.”

“And is there any way I can aid you in that?”

“I think there is.” 

“And how would that be?”

“Kiss me until I’m as breathless as I was when I came out of that portal. Can you do that?”

“Gods, I’ve wanted nothing more since the moment I opened my eyes,” Trahearne answered, and leaned in, letting the Valiant meet him halfway.

Dianach’s eyelids fluttered as their lips met ( _finally, finally_ ) and his hands wandered timidly to the back of the other’s neck. He lightly nipped at Trahearne’s bottom lip, earning a sharp gasp which was shortly followed by Trahearne’s body melting against his. A hand pushed aside the mop of bramble curls that hung across Dianach’s face, allowing better access as Trahearne pulled back to kiss his love’s cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, everywhere.

“You know,” Dianach said, giggling, as breathless as was promised, “you spend way too much time around humans, saying things like ‘gods.’” 

And they laughed together ( _a harmony, a love song, a promise_ ), their bodies curled into each other, as the sun set over Lion’s Arch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a biiiig gap in time with not a lot of information to fill it in, but I really want to focus specifically on the relationship between Trahearne and the Commander in this fic. Later on I'll probably be writing more about Dianach's happenings in this timeframe, but for now, we're gonna stick to the gay shit


	5. What Once was Sacred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trahearne talks to Caithe about his relationship with Dianach. After speaking with the Pale Tree, Dianach and Trahearne attempt to save the Chantry of Secrets, with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating last week! I keep thinking of things to add to this fic and it's a Problem rip

“I am so glad you finally worked things out with Dianach, brother, but you cannot let it distract you from your goals,” Caithe said. “You still have a Hunt to complete.”

They were sitting at a table in a far corner of a tavern in Lion’s Arch, sipping drinks and chatting quietly. It had been about three days since Trahearne had sent a letter to his sister that read simply, “I told him, but I don’t know what happens next. Help?” by the time she managed to get away from her duties, and the older sylvari was meant to be leaving for the Grove the next day, so time was of the essence. Any situation that caused Trahearne to consult others instead of his books was a rarity, and Caithe knew too well the importance this must hold for him. 

“You were the one who told me to pursue him, Caithe, and precisely for that reason,” Trahearne pointed out, frustration evident beneath his typical gentle tone. “You and Malomedies.”

“Being in love with a Night bloom does not mean you can trust another Night bloom for relationship advice.”

“Says the Night bloom,” Trahearne replied sardonically.

Caithe sighed.

“That was part of my point, not an attempt to exempt myself. We didn’t realize you were this...infatuated with the Valiant. We thought you were interested, intrigued, but in the end, you would do what you always do and it would...loosen you up a little.”

“Oh? And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean, brother,” Caithe said. She pinched the inner edges of her eyes, trying to tamp down her own frustration. “You find lovers, have an encounter, and then part ways to pursue your studies. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You make it sound as if I leave a trail of broken hearts in my wake.”

“I’ve said no such thing. If that’s how you feel, it would seem to me that’s from your own conscience.” She took a long drink of wine, looking at him pointedly.

“The way I feel for Dianach is...different. I can’t quite explain it,” Trahearne said, eyes fixed on his hands as he toyed with the bark. “Most of the others were humans trying to fulfill a curiosity. I was a novelty to them, and they to me.”

“And what of Laranthir? Fiana?” Caithe accused. Her voice lowered sadly as she added, “Riannoc?”

“We were all so--so _young_ then. We were...exploring. We, too, were fulfilling curiosity,” he admitted. “We weren’t all so lucky as to find what you and Faolain had.”

“Don’t--don’t bring her into this,” the younger one snapped.

“Apologies, sister. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

There was a heavy silence, eventually broken when Caithe sighed. “It’s...fine. But tell me, what makes the Valiant so different?”

“He’s a Lightbringer now, you know. You should be proud of him,” Trahearne said with a lovesick sort of smile.

“And I am. _You_ are avoiding the question.”

Trahearne sighed, rubbing his hand down his face as he considered his options. Considered whether he wanted Caithe to know the truth.

“If I tell you something in confidence, can you keep it to yourself?” he finally asked.

“You know I can, Trahearne,” Caithe said, leaning in closer as her intrigue spiked.

“I heard him in my Dream, Caithe. His voice. He called my name in this...frightened, desperate tone, and I called back to him,” he confessed. “When you told me of a young Valiant by the name of Dianach, I had to meet him. I had to know. And when I heard him speak for the first time, when I heard him say my name for the first time...”

“That’s what made you so frightened to pursue him. The fear in his voice as he called to you in the Dream,” Caithe finished for him.

“Yes. I knew from the start that I was destined to cause him so much pain, even if I don’t know how.” Trahearne sighed, fighting back tears. “I could feel it, Caithe. How much he was hurting. How could I let myself love him knowing how he’ll feel when it ends?”

“You know as well as I that what we see in the Dream is often an inevitability. And something like this? You couldn’t protect him from it if you tried,” she soothed, reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on her brother’s forearm. “Cherish the time you have with him. This will be good for you too, I think.”

“Do you think so? Honestly?” Trahearne asked.

“I do, Trahearne. Honestly.”

***

Trahearne and the Lightbringer dashed toward the cave, rushing to avert whatever crisis they might encounter, or at least to minimize it. The Pale Tree’s warning had clearly shaken both of them, but Dianach seemed particularly on edge, and it’s not as if being in Orr (or a simulated version of it, at least) hadn’t been unsettling enough on its own.

They reached the mouth of the cave that concealed the Chantry of Secrets when Dianach froze, eyes wide with fear.

“Dianach? Dianach, what’s wrong?” Trahearne asked. 

The Lightbringer didn’t respond.

“Dianach, we have to hurry,” Trahearne pleaded desperately.

He knew the look in Dianach’s eyes, after all. Knew it far too well. The headquarters of the Order of Whispers had become a second home to the Lightbringer in the time since he’d joined, and the fear of losing it, the fear of losing more friends--no one could be blamed for such a thing, especially with Tybalt’s loss still so fresh. 

The Firstborn put a hand on his partner’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Trahearne, I--what if we can’t save it? What if we’re too late?” Dianach asked him, looking up at him with watery eyes.

“What if we can? What if we’re not?” Trahearne replied with a tender smile. 

Dianach straightened himself and nodded sharply. They continued into the cave.

***

“I can’t--can’t k-kee--can’t keep doing this, Trahearne,” Dianach sobbed, face in his hands. “I can’t--can’t t-take more of--of this.” 

He sat on the floor in the Chantry, Trahearne beside him. Scattered around them were bodies--of Risen and Whispers Agents alike--interspersed with rubble from the blasts used to close off the tunnels. It was quite a scene, with medics bustling here and there to tend to wounded and collect the dead, and the two sylvari sat in the middle of it all.

“Dianach, this was not your fault. Nothing you could’ve done would have prevented this,” Trahearne said tenderly, reaching to pull his beloved against his chest. 

Dianach went easily, collapsing against him as if the weight of holding himself up was too much to bear. His body shook as he cried, tears flowing down his face and onto Trahearne’s shirt as he stroked Dianach’s face with gentle fingers.

“It--Zhaitan is--it knows, it knows I’m--that this is--it’s trying to stop me from--what if it--”

“Hey, shh, none of that, dearheart,” Trahearne cooed. “I know it feels as if you drew the dragon’s attention, and perhaps you did, but all three Orders have been preparing to take on Zhaitan for years. It would have come for them either way, in time. Your presence today saved many lives, and the Chantry itself. That is a victory, though I know it may not feel like one.”

Dianach took a deep breath, raising a hand and pointing at an asuran body lying crumpled on the floor.

“That was Frizz,” he said. “Best engineer I’ve ever worked with. He could build a turret out of practically nothing. And that--” he pointed at another body, this one a smallish charr-- “that was Galvana. She was a skilled revenant, taught me how to increase my shadowstep distance. That was Anamcha--” he pointed to a small sylvari-- “Xe had better aim than anyone I’ve ever met, with any weapon. Bow, rifle, pistol, harpoon gun--didn’t matter, Anamcha could fire ‘em all perfectly, made it look easy. Told the best jokes, too. I could go on.”

Dianach took another shuddering breath, pushing Trahearne’s hand away when he tried to brush a tear from the younger one’s cheek.

“This was my family, Trahearne,” the Lightbringer sighed. “These people meant everything to me. _Everything._ Sure, we saved the Chantry, but look around. How much do you think that means to _them?_ To Frizz, and to Galvana, and to Anamcha, and to--to Tybalt? How much do you think saving Tyria--let alone a fucking _cave_ \--matters to everyone who’s died to do it?”

“It means everything, dearheart,” Trahearne said, looking at him sadly. “Everyone here, everyone in this Order and in all the others, signed up to fight for this world, whatever it takes. You would lay down your life to save Tyria, to save the people you love, if it came to it, would you not?”

“Of--of course,” Dianach said, brow furrowing. “Why would you even ask me that? Of course I would, I wouldn’t be here if I--oh.”

“So you see?”

The Lightbringer sighed again, relaxing against the arms wrapped around him, and nodded.

“How’d you get to be so wise, anyway?” he asked, looking up into golden eyes.

“Comes with age, I suppose,” Trahearne said with a smile. 

“So what you’re saying is that I just need to make it past, like, 10 or 15, and then I’ll have everything figured out?” Dianach asked teasingly.

Trahearne’s hold on his partner tightened without his intention, his thoughts flickering back to his dream, to that desperate cry he heard claw its way out of Dianach’s throat.

“Something like that,” he answered, looking straight ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the Commander have actual emotional reactions to the constant tragedy they're exposed to 2020


	6. This is How We'll Dance When They Try to Take Us Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes unite the Orders and Trahearne agrees to lead the Pact. The Battle for Claw Island begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Let the Flames Begin by Paramore. Seemed a fitting song for this.

“Please, if I could have everyone’s attention,” Trahearne called, raising a hand to silence the bickering Order representatives before him. 

When no one responded, he looked down nervously, coughed.

“This isn’t going to work,” he said quietly to the man beside him. Dianach took his hand, gave it a squeeze.

“Hey, quiet!” the Lightbringer yelled, loud enough to be heard over the squabbling. Finally, there was silence as everyone looked toward the two of them. “This is incredibly important. I know some of you know who I am, but that doesn’t matter much. All of you, however, know Firstborn Trahearne. He’s long been a friend to all three Orders, and he’s our best chance of retaking Claw Island and defeating the dragon for good. I suggest you all listen carefully to what he has to say.”

“Thank you, Dianach,” Trahearne said, squeezing his hand before letting it go and stepping forward. 

“All of you have heard by now of the fall of Claw Island, and of the many soldiers who fell with it,” he started. He took a shaky breath, steeled himself. Speeches like this weren’t his forte, but he had to push on. “For too long, we’ve allowed Zhaitan to take what it pleases, and its corruption is only continuing to spread. If we don’t do something, and soon, it will consume Tyria, until all of us are servants in its army.

“For centuries, your Orders have fought the Elder Dragons in one way or another. You all have your philosophies and your methods. I know well of the rivalries that exist between the Priory, the Vigil, and the Order of Whispers, and I know setting those rivalries aside is easier said than done. But we cannot win the war against the dragons, the war for the very _soul_ of Tyria, with one tactic alone.”

Dianach took a deep breath. 

“When I joined the Order of Whispers,” he said, “I swore to do everything in my power to fight the dragons. I will die for Tyria if I must, but if we work together, I believe we can win this. I believe we can defeat Zhaitan for good.

“The Vigil has already shown tremendous courage in the fight against the Elder Dragons. Why stop now? The Priory has dedicated itself to acquiring and using knowledge in this battle. Think of how much Orr has to teach us! And the Order of Whispers has seen the rise and fall of nations, but we can’t hide from this. It will find us. In fact--” he said, then paused and sighed. “In fact, it already has. It’s time to make a stand.”

“We can only do this together,” Trahearne added. “The time has come to join forces and face this threat head-on.”

A hush fell over the group at the proposal, a palpable silence that hung in the air like smoke. The first person to speak was the steward of the Durmand Priory, an asura named Gixx.

“By the alchemy, you two are bold,” he said, taking a step forward. “But...you’re also right. Knowledge is useless if it’s never applied. The Priory is with you.”

“The Order of Whispers has worked against this threat for generations,” said Halvora Snapdagger, one of the preceptors. “If you’re going after the dragon, we’ll be there. Our swords are yours.”

All eyes turned to the final Order’s representative, General Almorra Soulkeeper of the Vigil. She shifted awkwardly, considering her options.

“ _Fine_ ,” she growled. “The Vigil doesn’t back down from a challenge, not even the challenge of working with these undisciplined louts. We’ll join you, but there _has_ to be a hierarchy to keep things in line. Who do you propose run this--this pact?”

“Logic dictates it cannot be someone from any of our Orders,” Gixx said.

“Or one may seem to be above the other two,” agreed Halvora.

“I’ve thought about that, actually,” Dianach said. He took a deep breath and turned to Trahearne, grabbing one of the Firstborn’s hands and holding it in both of his own. “You’re the only one here not part of an Order, and you have the most experience and knowledge of Orr of anyone in Tyria by far. And with what we saw in the Pale Tree’s vision… You’re the only reasonable choice here. Will you lead us?” 

Trahearne sighed, his breath shaky as he took back his hand to fidget with his fingers. He looked to Dianach, then to the ground, then to the crowd around them, then took a deep breath and nodded.

“I suppose I knew it would come to this. I’m not a leader, but...for Tyria, I’ll find it in me,” he said, and then, leaning slightly toward Dianach, he quietly added, “ _and for you_.”

Dianach smiled at him and laced his fingers with Trahearne’s again, then held them above their heads.

“We will retake Claw Island, and we will show this dragon what we’re made of!” Dianach bellowed.

“For Tyria!” Trahearne added, smiling despite himself.

The call was echoed around them, synching cries from every direction, every Order, every race. All with one voice, one aim: “For Tyria!”

*** 

Just two short weeks after losing the fort to the Risen, they were meeting again on Claw Island, but for a very different occasion. The Orders were on board, the troops were gathered, the gates were busted open--it was time to retake the fortress from the dragon.

“I need to get up to the ramparts to oversee the battle,” Trahearne said, turning to his partner. “Can you take me there?”

“I’m pretty sure you could manage getting there on your own, love,” Dianach said with a mischievous smile, “but sure, I’ll take you.”

And of course, getting up to the ramparts wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was leaving them.

“And you’re sure you’ll be safe up here?” Dianach asked.

“Only moments ago, you were saying I’d be perfectly capable of managing on my own, were you not?” Trahearne asked. “I’ll be fine. I have my minions. You’re the one we should be worrying about.”

“You know damn well I can hold my own in a fight,” the Lightbringer shot back. “You don’t have to worry about me. Thorns, I’m the last thing you should be worrying about, given that you have _an entire army_ to command.”

“Don’t remind me,” Trahearne sighed. “I can’t help but feel I’m the wrong person to be doing this.”

“Trahearne, you’re the _only_ person who could do this. You’re the smartest man I’ve ever met. Strategy will come second nature to you, I guarantee it. And at the end of it, we get to go home and live our lives, which I think is a pretty great ending.”

“I suppose it is, dearheart. Just be safe?”

“Of course I will. _You_ be safe. Don’t die on me, you hear me?” Dianach insisted.

“Don’t worry, dear one. I can’t die yet,” Trahearne said with a smile that invited the question.

“Oh? And why’s that?” the Lightbringer obliged.

Trahearne waved a finger, _come here and I’ll tell you,_ and pulled his beloved in for a kiss. When they broke it, their comrades swaying awkwardly waiting for Dianach to lead the charge, Trahearne pressed another kiss to his cheek before whispering something in his ear.

The Lightbringer stood, stunned, as petrified as a dwarf, until Trahearne lightly shoved him away.

“Go, go on! You have a battle to win, dearheart!”

“What did he _say_ to you?” Professor Gorr asked quietly as they walked away.

“You _really_ don’t want to know,” Dianach answered, glowing a just a bit more than usual.

*** 

“Trahearne!” the Lightbringer called, rushing up to the central rampart. “Thank the Mother Tree, I’m so glad you made it through okay.”

“I could say the same to you,” the Firstborn said, wrapping his love in a tight embrace. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you down there, in the middle of everything. I hated that I couldn’t be with you, protecting you.”

“That’s because you were up here, protecting _everybody,_ ” Dianach assured him, “and you did a damn good job of it, too.”

“Thank you, Dianach.”

“For what? The compliment? There’s no need for thanks. You earned it.” 

Trahearne shook his head.

“For...surviving? Wasn’t that the plan?” Dianach tried again.

“For--for being you.”

“Oh, you sap,” Dianach teased.

“No, dear one, I mean it.” He ran a hand gently along the other’s face, Dianach’s eyes fluttering closed in response to the touch. “I love you. I love you beyond what I have the words to convey. I need to ensure you know that, because once this war begins in earnest, I cannot say what will happen to us--to me,” Trahearne said, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill forth. “I have no idea if I can protect you.”

“Hey, hey, where’s this coming from? We’re going to be okay, love. Okay? I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Where you go, I go,” Dianach confirmed.

“I will need you during all of this if I’m to lead us, during all of what’s to come,” Trahearne said. “I’ll need your mind, your skills. You have experience with strategy that I simply cannot measure up to.”

“Darling, I’m all yours.”

“Good, because every Marshal needs a second-in-command.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure about second,” Dianach said. “How about partners? Co-captains? I mean, obviously we’ll tell everyone else I’m your second, for the sake of appearances, but…”

“You’re insufferable,” Trahearne said teasingly, his smile as warm as the sun that danced across their faces.

“And you’re beautiful,” Dianach responded, kissing him quickly on the cheek. 

They stood on the ramparts together for a few quiet moments before Dianach asked, “Hey, if you’re Marshal, what am I?”

“How about...Commander?” Trahearne suggested. “I think it has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

“Hmm,” the younger one considered. “‘Commander.’ I could get used to that.”

“You know, I like a man with a title,” his beloved said, pulling him in by the waist.

“Is that so?” Dianach said, giggling as Trahearne planted kisses along his jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna brace you all in advance for the fact that the next chapter gets kinda cracky. I mean it's not _that_ bad I guess, but I maybe do feel a bit weird publishing it. I'm going to anyway.
> 
> Also, bc I've been so bad about replying to comments lately, thank you to everyone who has left comments thus far! It's seriously such a big motivator knowing that people are enjoying/invested in this story.


	7. Those Relentless Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan and Dianach catch up after the reclamation of Lion's Arch; Dianach and Trahearne finally set out for Fort Trinity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some crack. Sorry not sorry
> 
> So I really love the idea of younger sylvari talking in a way that's significantly less formal when amongst friends. Sylvari speech is always so formal and stuffy, and I just really like the thought of that being a very intentional choice that they then fall out of. Code-switching fascinates me
> 
> Title is from Always Leaving by Mayday Parade, bc again, I am still emo

“Man, I can’t _believe_ some of the stuff you guys pull off!” Morgan said, her head resting on Dianach’s lap as they each flicked through a newspaper. “Like just retaking Claw Island? Like it was no big deal? I would’ve paid to see that.”

“It wasn’t like it was ‘no big deal,’ Morgan. People lost their lives. It was a tough fight.”

“Yeah, but _you did it_. You and Trahearne.”

“And literally dozens of other people from all across Tyria, but sure,” Dianach reminded his friend with a slightly exasperated smile. “You know, it’s not too late for you to join in. The Pact needs people like you.”

“Like what? A necromancer with an interest in studying the relationship between death, healing, and love? Seems pretty niche,” she said, glancing up at him.

“You realize the entire Pact is being led by a necromancer with an interest in studying what used to be a sunken continent and a thief whose life goal is fighting the Elder Dragons while also avoiding _actual_ fighting as much as possible, right?”

“Fair point,” Morgan conceded. “Maybe I will. I don’t know. I’ll think about it, okay?”

“That’s all I ask, my dear.”

“Trahearne really has made you more affectionate, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah, it’s all those sensitive Dusk vibes. Really throws off my Night bloom groove,” Dianach said with a smirk.

“Or maybe,” Morgan countered, “you’ve just been a big softie all along.”

“Me? Soft? Never,” he said sarcastically, running an affectionate hand through her foliage. 

“Tell me about the battle, though. What was it like?” she asked.

“It was...chaotic. Battles tend to be,” the Lightbringer--Commander, now, actually; that would take getting used to--replied. “But Trahearne handled it so well. I mean really, he was so nervous to be in charge, so afraid he’d mess it up, but he was incredible.”

“Aw, I love the way your face lights up when you talk about him.” She smiled. “What else? How did it start?”

“Well, we had to fight our way up to this tower to open the gates, since we had to seal them off when we lost it before. We had this device--asuran tech modified by some Whispers and Priory folks--that we wired into the signal towers on the island to blast it down, which was pretty cool to see.” 

“And then what?” Morgan asked, pushing him to continue.

“And then Trahearne asked me to help him up to the ramparts, although obviously he could’ve handled it alone. I think he just wanted to get me up away from everyone so we could have one of those pre-battle moments, you know?”

“Not really,” she said. “Enlighten me.”

“Well, you know, we did the whole jokey-flirty thing, told each other we’d be fine and to take care of ourselves and all that. It was all pretty romantic,” Dianach explained. “I was like, ‘Don’t die on me,’ and he was like, ‘I can’t die yet,’ and I was like, ‘Oh? Why’s that?’ and then he beckoned me towards him and kissed me--and it was, like, a really good kiss--and then he kissed my cheek and he whispered--well, you don’t really want to know what he said.”

“Oh, I _so_ do.”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“You _have_ to,” Morgan insisted.

“Says who?” Dianach retorted.

“Says _me_ , your bestest bestest friend. What did he _say_ , Di? You’re killing me.”

“You’re so dramatic, do you know that?”

“I’m aware,” she answered. “Now tellmetellmetellmetellme.”

“He said, um--he said--mind you, these were his words, I would never--”

“Get _on_ with it, Dianach!” 

The Commander sighed heavily, blushing bright white.

“He _said,_ and this is a direct quote, word for word, because I will never be able to unhear it, _‘because I haven’t gotten the chance to fuck you yet.’_ ”

“Holy shit.”

“Right?”

“I mean, _holy shit._ ”

“ _Right?_ ”

“Like it definitely seems out of character based on the admittedly small amount of knowledge I have of him, but that’s, like, so hot.”

“I know! It is a little out of character, but I think the surprise of it contributed to it being so...well, you know. I’m honestly not sure how I managed to fight an entire battle after that,” Dianach said with a laugh. “Come to think of it, maybe that _is_ how I managed to fight an entire battle.”

“Motivated by the thought of getting dicked down by a Firstborn, huh?” Morgan teased. “Seems reasonable. I mean, personally, if I had my pick, I’d choose Caithe. Like, what a babe, am I right?”

“I wouldn’t say I had my pick so much as I was predestined to fall madly in love with a person who just _happened_ to be a Firstborn.”

“Do you think he, like, knows what he’s doing?” Morgan questioned. “Like, do you think he’s, you know, done it before?”

“Well, he has been alive for 23 years, and we must’ve been designed that way for a reason, you know?” Dianach pondered. “Although the thought of him...doing that with anyone but me puts a pretty bad taste in my mouth.” 

“Sylvari do tend to be pretty monogamous, I suppose, or at the very least faithful to those we love. I’ve met some who have these sort of triangular relationships, but they’re still committed. And we rarely move on after the death of a lover,” she explained. “It’s one of the things that makes us prime subjects for my research, actually. There’s exceptions to every rule, of course, but if all that stuff he told you about hearing you in the Dream is true--and from what you’ve said, I’m sure it is--then it stands to reason that he wouldn’t have loved anyone like that before you, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, all the other races have sex for fun sometimes,” he posited. “Maybe he did something like that?”

“It is possible, I guess. Most older sylvari I’ve spoken to over the course of my research haven’t.” Dianach looked at her quizically, so she explained, “Look, sylvari are just...different, on a lot of levels, and one of those levels is that sex is a purely connection-based activity. Like, yes, it feels good on a physical level, the same way it does for other races, but we have no reproductive drive, and because of our connection to the Dream, there’s a strong emotional and psychological component that exists with us that just isn’t there with others. And that connection, or so the research would indicate, is strongest when experienced between people who also have an emotional attachment.”

“Huh,” Dianach said.

“Yeah. I feel kind of bad for everyone else, honestly. It’s not like I’ve done it, but from what I’ve heard, that Dream connection? There’s nothing else like it. Not even those drugs humans do or the booze they serve at norn moots.”

“You know, I tried those human drugs one time,” Dianach said.

“Really?” Morgan said, perking up and sitting to look at him. “What was it like? Did you feel bad after? Were there physical reactions as well as psychosocial ones? Tell me everything.”

“First of all, I don’t _remember_ everything. It seriously messed with my head,” he clarified. “But no, there was none of that hangover stuff they all talk about, and I didn’t feel weird physically. It was just like everything was more colorful, and sound was nicer, and I wanted to talk to _everyone_ about _everything._ It was kind of nice, actually. I wonder how nice Trahearne’s voice would’ve sounded. I mean, it’s already, like, the best sound. I bet it would’ve been _unbelievable._ ”

“Stars, you are so lovesick, aren’t you?” Morgan teased.

“A perfect research candidate, hm?”

“Honestly? Yeah. If either of you ever dies, come find me.” 

“You’ll be the first to know.”

***

“Dearheart, it’s time,” Trahearne said, gathering bags from their place by the door. 

They had been making preparations to leave for Fort Trinity, the Pact’s primary base in Orr, for weeks now. Running missions, gathering intel--it had been exhausting. Merely a week ago they’d conducted an impromptu rescue for a group of Priory scholars near Fort Concordia; Trahearne had needed to summon a small army of minions to get them out, and the effort had been draining.

But this was war, and the dragon wasn’t going to wait.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Dianach asked, straightening his partner’s shirt. “You’re sure you don’t need more time to recover?”

“I don’t _have_ more time, Dianach. You know that. We can’t wait anymore.”

Dianach sighed, slumping against Trahearne, who dropped his bags in surprise and wrapped his arms around the Commander.

“I know, I know,” Dianach said, holding on tightly to his beloved. “I just wish things weren’t...like this. I wish we could just have a normal life.”

“Ah, but what fun would that be?” Trahearne said, tilting Dianach face up to look into his eyes. “You and I are meant for greater things, dear one, whether we like it or not. As much as I’d love to stay here with you, there’s still much to be done to prepare Fort Trinity, and you need to meet up with that demolitionist and pave the way for us to do it.”

Dianach stretched up and kissed him lightly, smiling against his mouth. 

“Someday,” he said, looking into Trahearne’s eyes, “the world won’t need saving anymore, and we can just sit around at home and enjoy each other.”

“A lovely thought,” Trahearne agreed. “Now remember, as soon as your mission with Tonn is completed, I need you at Fort Trinity as soon as you can get there. Be careful, alright?”

“I will,” Dianach assured. “You too?”

“Of course, dearheart. I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, Trahearne grabbed his things, flashed Dianach a strange sort of smile, and left for Orr once again.


	8. A Work in Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dianach arrives at Fort Trinity, Trahearne brings him up to speed, and some things go really, really wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dianach is sad again. Sorry. 
> 
> Also, sorry for taking so long between updates! I just haven't felt much like writing lately, and I'm getting to a point in the story where I've technically already written, but I have gaps I want to fill in. Hopefully the next few updates won't take so long rip
> 
> Hope everyone is doing alright, stay safe!!

“Ah, Commander, there you are!” Trahearne called as Dianach approached. “Welcome to Fort Trinity. We’ve much to discuss.”

The Marshal led him to an office lined with stacks of papers and assorted items, none of which seemed to belong in the space.

“Sorry it’s such a mess in here,” Trahearne said. “Still trying to get it organized. There wasn’t any kind of proper office, so we had to convert an old storage closet, but--well, you can see for yourself. It’s a work in progress, much like the rest of this place.”

“No need to apologize. I’m sure you’re plenty busy with running a massive military effort,” Dianach said with a smile as he took Trahearne’s hand. 

“Well, now that we’re away from all the noise, let’s start with reporting on your latest mission.”

“It was a success. Technically speaking.”

“Technically speaking?” Trahearne asked.

“Yes, well, we--the towers were destroyed, and so was the bone ship, but--but Tonn, he...didn’t make it,” Dianach said, looking toward the floor. The guilt had been weighing on him since the moment they found the demolitionist’s body, and reporting the outcome in a somewhat official capacity only made it worse.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Trahearne said gently. “He was a good man, and a good soldier. I’ll have someone inform his next of kin.”

“No, I--I think I should do that myself,” Dianach said. “Tonn’s safety was my responsibility. The duty should be mine.”

Trahearne nodded, traced the side of Dianach’s face with a careful hand. “Whatever you like. But for now, there are things we must discuss. The Risen have been showing up around the fort more and more lately; I believe Zhaitan is planning an attack.”

“Makes sense. Presumably the dragon would want to test us, put us on the defensive,” the Commander said.

“Precisely. We’ve come a long way in preparing the place, as you’ve seen, but we’re far from finished, and things keep going wrong. Patrols have been disappearing, and perhaps the worst, our asura gates aren’t functioning, and no one can tell me why. Magical or mechanical failure would seem the most likely cause, but our engineers can’t get them working. There’s even been talk of saboteurs. It’s quite distressing.”

“What would you like me to do?” Dianach asked.

“For now, I need you to come with me to check in with one of the lumber camps. They’ve been hit hard by the Risen, and we need that timber.”

“Alright, let’s get to it then.”

“You take point.” 

***

“Marshal, Commander, it’s an honor,” the captain said, saluting as they approached. 

“At ease. What’s the situation, Captain...?” Dianach asked her.

“Kexxa, sir. Again, it’s an honor,” the asura answered. “We’ve had multiple logging parties go missing. As I’m sure you’re aware, we need more lumber to reinforce the camp, but the last group we sent out still hasn’t returned.”

“Understood,” the Commander said. “We’ll put together a search party, and--”

“Captain, we have Risen incoming!” someone shouted.

“ _Sparks, not again,_ ” Captain Kexxa said under her breath. “Everyone, defensive positions, now! Commander, Marshal, if you’re able to stick around, we could use the help. We’re short quite a few soldiers now.”

“Of course,” Dianach said, drawing his daggers from his coat and looking toward Trahearne, who drew Caladbolg from its place across his back. “Let’s kill some undead,” he added with a wink.

The Risen came from what seemed like every direction, filling the air with the stench of death. Dianach took the time to prepare traps and double check that the bag of caltrops at his waist was still reasonably full, before stealthing and charging into the crowd.

He stepped from enemy to enemy, stealing globs of gunk and sharp coral shards and delivering quick slices with his daggers as he went. The Commander turned just in time to see what used to be a woman, now dressed in rotted clothes and limping awkwardly on a half-decayed leg, approaching him, and threw two of the shards in quick succession before jumping to her and landing a killing blow.

Meanwhile Trahearne was cutting them down by threes and fours, the glow of Caladbolg flashing through wave upon wave of Risen. He kicked two of them into one of Dianach’s traps, and the Commander acted quickly to trigger it, raining down a wave of poison upon the enemies. 

“There’s too many of them!” Dianach yelled. “We have to fall back!”

Trahearne looked at him, nodded resolutely as he cut down another three Risen charging at him.

“Fall back! Fall back!” the Marshal commanded, waving soldiers inside. 

That was when the giants turned up.

“ _Thorns_ ,” Dianach breathed, then shouted, “Run!” 

He spotted Kexxa as he made his retreat, standing in a large group of Risen, sword drawn.

“Kexxa!” he yelled to her. “Come on, we have to get into the fort!”

“You go!” the captain shouted back. “I’ll hold them off!”

“That’s suicide, Captain!” the Commander responded. 

“If I don’t, they’ll come after you! Someone has to do it!” she said firmly, charging at the approaching undead. 

Dianach took a deep breath, reminded himself this was war. People were going to die, and he couldn’t save everyone, but it would never get easier accepting these sacrifices. He thought back to Claw Island, back to Tybalt’s sacrifice. He lost a good friend that day, and he had scarcely had time to mourn before returning to this seemingly endless string of battles... 

“Dianach!” he heard, breaking him out of his reverie. “We have to close it off, come on!”

Trahearne was watching him desperately from the gate, a subordinate holding his arm to restrain him from going after the Commander. When Dianach looked up, he saw one of the giants standing over him, holding a large stone and preparing to launch it roughly in the direction of his head.

“ _Shit_ ,” he breathed, looking around for a way out. He stealthed himself and shadowstepped beyond the ever-growing crowd of Risen, who were closing in on the few living bodies still outside the fort, then ran toward the entrance and revealed himself just as he got to where the Marshal stood at the gate. They ran inside together, sealing off the fort and looking around to assess the happenings inside.

“Kexxa,” Dianach said desperately, grabbing Trahearne’s arm. “Kexxa, I--I couldn’t save her. She wouldn’t come, I--”

“Shh, no time for that now,” the Marshal said. “We’ve others to protect. She knew what she was doing; allow her the dignity of choosing an honorable death.”

Dianach steeled himself, gave a sharp nod.

“Soldiers, to the docks!” Trahearne called. “We will not lose Fort Trinity this day!”

***

“First Tybalt, then the Chantry attack, and then Tonn, and now Kexxa--it’s like people die all around me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it,” Dianach said, hunched over on their bed. It was a feather mattress, human-made and different from what he was used to--the furniture in the Grove was mainly carefully shaped plants, and the Chantry of Secrets had simple cots in its barracks--but he found it relatively comfortable nonetheless.

“I know you feel responsible, dearheart,” Trahearne said, rubbing soothing circles on his back, “but none of those deaths are on your hands. All we can do is honor their sacrifice and ensure it won’t be in vain.”

“Ceera, Tonn’s wife--you should’ve heard her,” the Commander said, putting his head in his hands and slumping down further. “‘ _You murdered him, you and your Pact._ ’ She’ll never be the same, and she blames me for it.”

“It’s natural for us to find someone on whom to place the blame for a death,” Trahearne murmured. “You were the closest target; that doesn’t make it your fault.”

“But I--but she--thorns and brambles, I can’t keep doing this, Trahearne.” Dianach drew in a shaky breath, fighting back a sob. He sat up and looked at his beloved with a desperate expression. “I can’t handle all this death, all this blood on my hands. I feel like I’ll never be clean of it, like this is all my life will ever be. Just death and destruction and war, like it’s all I’m good for.”

“Hey, shh,” the Marshal cooed, drawing Dianach’s shaking form against his chest. “It’s as you said: someday the world won’t need saving, and we’ll be free to live our lives as we choose. But until that day, I will be beside you, dear one. You don’t have to do any of this alone. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3
> 
> If you like my writing, kudos and comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [useless-bisaster](https://useless-bisaster.tumblr.com/) or on my gw2-specific blog [commander-passiflora](https://commander-passiflora.tumblr.com) where I post about updates and suchlike


End file.
